The Thing in the Couch
by SedatedKoala
Summary: Peter finds something unusual between the couch cushions, and is very angry at Wade. Wade is amused. (Inspired by a YouTube video)


"Wade?"

Wade paused in his efforts to scrub blood off the bathroom floor, and shouted over his shoulder, "In the bathroom, Parker!"

Peter appeared there a moment later, a look of annoyance on his face. "We need to talk, Wade."

"It's coming off the tiles," Wade said, gesturing to the now pinkish smears. "I didn't realize my arm was that bad. I swear, your landlord will never know."

"That's not what I'm talking about." Peter held out a hand-blown glass item, and said, "I'm talking about this."

Wade's eyes went wide, recognizing the item as a piece of his, uh, _personal_ property. He stood up and said, "I, uh… I've been looking for that."

"What were the rules, Wade?" Peter said angrily.

"Uh..." was all Wade could manage.

Peter counted off the rules, using the item to punctuate every single bullet point. "NO killing! NO mercenary jobs! And NO breaking the law _of any kind_!"

Wade swallowed hard, and said, "Well, Peter, to be fair, that is a perfectly legal item to have in all fifty states."

"It's paraphernalia, Wade," Peter said. He shook his head. "Seriously, is this what you want from your life? You keep saying you want to make positive changes, but how can you make positive changes when you keep doing things that drag you down."

Now Wade was getting angry. "Look, Peter. I know that you are a straight dude, but you need to lay off, okay? I'm not the only one into that shit. And if you are seriously that judgmental about people with different preferences, then you're not the hero I thought you to be."

"Seriously?" Peter rolled his eyes, and waved the object in front of Wade's face. "This is not a lifestyle preference. It is a habit, and one that I do not want in my home. If you want to smoke pot, fine. That's your business. But not in my apartment, Wade."

It took a moment for Peter's words to sink in. Then, Wade started to laugh. The laugh morphed into a bonafide fit that left him doubled over with tears streaking down his face. He laughed until he could not breathe.

Meanwhile, Peter was trying to figure out what was so funny. He asked, "What the hell is so funny?"

"What exactly—(cackle)—do you think you have in your hand?" Wade asked, breath stuttering from attempts to suppress his laughter. His eyes were sparkling, and Peter knew something was up.

"It's a marijuana pipe," Peter said.

Wade snorted, wiped the tears from his eyes, and said, "While what you currently have in your hand is without a doubt similar in color and construction to many fine blown glass pipes, it is not a pipe."

Peter shook his head. "Wade, you're not going to bullshit your way out of—."

"It's a butt plug, Peter," Wade said. "A hand blown glass butt plug."

Peter looked at Wade, then looked at the glass item in his hand. "…What?"

Enunciating as if Peter were an infant, Wade said, "Butt. Plug. For my butt. For _butt_ sex."

Peter's eyes went wide, and he quickly tossed the glass butt plug to Wade, who was again dissolving into a laughing fit. Peter turned on the sink and pumped an egregious amount of antibacterial soap into his hands as he shouted, "WHAT in the HELL is that doing in my couch cushions! What the hell, Wade? Why would you just leave something like that ON MY COUCH! If you could die, I WOULD FUCKING KILL YOU!"

Wade barely heard him over his own bellowing laughter. When he had recovered enough to speak, he said, "Oh my god, your face! Your whole face was like WHAT? I'm dying." Then he took a deep breath, and let it out on a satisfied sigh. "Damn, Peter. You need to get out of your little bubble. You seriously didn't know that was a butt plug?"

"No!" Peter shouted as he started a second round of sanitizing. He was quiet a moment before asking, "Why do you have a butt plug?"

"Do I really need to explain that?" Wade said, turning serious. "I mean, can't you just Google it or something?"

"But you were married?" Peter said. "I didn't think you were, you know, into… butt plugs."

"I'm not really into butt plugs so much as I am butt sex," Wade answered, and Peter choked on air. "So you're not a closet bigot, right?"

"I have no problem with that. At all," Peter said. He chuckled, and said, "Just keep it in your room, okay?"

"I solemnly swear I will keep all of my butt paraphernalia out of the common areas."

"Thank you," Peter said as he dried his hands. He closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose and laughed. "I feel kind of dumb."

"You're a sweet little vanilla sundae, and there's nothing wrong with that," Wade said as he grabbed his bloody sponge off the floor. "I almost feel bad being the one to corrupt your boyish mind."

"Boyish?" Peter said, looking at Wade. He saw the bloody sponge in his hand, but the glass plug was gone. "Wade… Where's the, um…?"

"I put it where it belongs," Wade answered, smirking.

Peter's face scrunched in horror. "Jesus, Wade! I'm standing right here!"

"In my pocket!" Wade said to Peter's back as he exited the bathroom at superhuman speed.


End file.
